The c***k in the void did not widen gently.
It ripped.
Light tore through the gray nothingness above them, jagged and violent, spilling shards of white-gold radiance that burned as they fell. Elara felt it like a scream through her bones. The seed inside her flared in sharp warning, no longer calm, no longer observant alarmed.
“They’re forcing a way through,” Draven said grimly, eyes locked on the widening fracture. “The Conclave won’t stop just because the rules say they should.”
The Devourer’s chains rattled, a sound like continents grinding together. Its massive skull tilted upward, gaze fixed on the breach with something dangerously close to satisfaction.
“Of course they won’t,” it said. “They never do.”
The platform beneath Elara pulsed again, responding to her rising panic. Bla
